There was no denying it. An asteroid hurtled towards Earth on an unstoppable collision course. Recriminations flew—how could such a threat exist undetected? Or was it? Are there evacuation plans?Who gets to live? Who knew what and when? Why weren’t we told?
Rioters burned NY and DC to the ground. All over the planet, law and order disintegrated as this devastating day approached.
My wife and I sat watching what little TV programming remained—pray-ins, mass suicides, tearful celebrities hugging each other, and live feeds targeting the approaching menace. Judgment Day was here, there was nothing left to do but cry or participate in the local sex-and-death orgies.
“Any last requests,” I asked her. Her eyes had darkened from days of crying and sleeplessness. We had run out of food—there was no one willing to distribute or sell it, not even at gunpoint.
She shook her head, then grabbed my hand. “Yes. There is one thing. Before it’s all over, I want—I want a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie.”
I blinked. “What?”
“That’s what I want.”
“Seriously?” We sat quietly.
“Yes. Please, can you go get me one?”
“You want me to go out, hours before The Strike, and find you a cookie?”
“Yes.” She stared at the floor. “You asked. That’s what I want. That’s my last request.”
I swallowed and looked at my watch. I flipped through the local channels. Gangs with guns or worse roamed the streets in an torrent of senseless violence. “I might not return.”
“That’s okay. I mean—” she quickly corrected, “that would be terrible, but I’d understand.”
I sighed. What else could I do? I didn’t want to go out of this world with my wife mad with me. So I threw on my jacket, jumped into the car, and headed towards the nearest shopping center.
The roads were suicide. No one obeyed a single traffic rule. Speed demons flew by, testing the limits of their vehicles. Many twisted cars lay in the ditch, some with bodies still inside. People hunted people, the ultimate rush. Couldn’t we just die with dignity? Must we revert to savages? Ahead of me, a group of youths surrounded a car, shot the driver, and stole the car, only to wreck it a block later. I turned onto a side street.
The mall looked like a war zone with smoke pouring from burning cars and buildings. The windows stood like gaping caverns, the glass gone. I tooled the car around, trying to find some sign of civilized life. I flipped on the radio. Some stations featured an automated countdown, so there was no mistaking the moment of impact. I found one station advertising an “end of the world” concert, featuring top rockers—and food! The mall seemed too dangerous, so I decided to check out this concert.
Big mistake. The roads had become littered with abandoned cars. Thousands of people converged on this end-of-the-world mayhem. After becoming trapped, I left my car and followed the crush of people. The crowd defied description. Drugs, nudity, gang rapes, gunfights, all next to a blaring amplification system. The concessions consisted of little more than cold hot dogs and government cheese—and barrels upon barrels of beer. No one cared about the atrocities. Since the asteroid would impact across the globe from us, we wouldn’t even die in the initial blast. They said we might even hold out for a day or so, until the Earth opened up and covered us with lava, or searing winds blew us away, or the sky filled with flaming fragments of rock. It wouldn’t be pleasant...so maybe a bullet to the head wasn’t so bad.
Then, in the far corner, I found them. Well, I smelled them before I saw them. Fresh baked cookies. I forced myself through the crowd, and stuffed them in my pockets and shirt. I bolted from this madhouse, shoving my way through the throng, wishing I could unsee some of the cruel images I had witnessed.
I located a car with keys and a clear exit. I drove it away, but a gang of youths chased me, pulled me out through the window, and beat me like a dirty carpet. I figured that this was the end, that I would never see my wife again, but a rival gang started shooting at them so they fled. And did I mention? They stole all my hard-earned cookies.
I picked myself up. My watch was broken. I had no idea how much time was left. I wondered if I could grab some more cookies, but time grew precious. I stumbled back home, a good six miles away.
I won’t detail that miserable journey. Suffice it to say that when my wife unbolted the door, I collapsed at her feet, bleeding, dehydrated, but alive.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I had them, but I was jumped. I’m so sorry. How much longer?”
She helped clean me up, and brought me our last bottle of water. “Not long. Thank you for trying.”
We sat down, watching the final minutes tick away. Cameras in Dubai televised the approaching rock, clearly visible like a little oblong moon that kept growing by the minute.
“Why did you want a cookie so bad,” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
“I kept it,” she said.
“You kept what?” Then it hit me. The first time we met. It was so casual. I had made cookies, and brought them to a party. I offered this beautiful girl one, and she accepted. Had she kept it, all these years?
She produced the cookie from its bag under the couch. “I thought you’d rather eat a fresh one, but this one will do. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
We split the rock-hard cookie, and each placed a piece in our mouth. When the countdown hit zero, the sky over Dubai grew impossibly bright. The feed died. I held my wife’s hand, chewing the last morsel of food to ever touch my lips.
1000 words exactly by some miracle.ReplyDelete
I had this dream last night where the Earth was just about to be destroyed and my wife wanted me to go out and get her a cookie. So I used that as a writing prompt and came up with this.
I kept asking myself "why a cookie" so I came up with something. Hopefully it works, if not then maybe I'll rework it at some point.
I love her reasoning, explicit and silent, in the first half. Her motives turn out sweet, but the humorous preposterousness is so entertaining.ReplyDelete
I promise, when the zombie apocalypse comes, if I want a cookie I'll at least go WITH you to get it. :D
How bittersweet! And what a guy to actually concede to such an outrageous demand (even if there was a sweet reason behind it). :-) Nice work!ReplyDelete
It was as enjoyable as a fresh-baked cookie with still-melting chocolate.ReplyDelete
I love her comment, "That's okay...". It makes the twist at the end so much sweeter!
In the UK we have a series of advertisements for Cadbury chocolate where a knight goes thorugh hell to give a lady a box of chocolates - "because the lady loves..."ReplyDelete
Whic is nothing like your story really, so I'll stop wittering on about irrelevancies now :-)
I'll echo what John Wiswell said, nicely done!
Oh what love he has for his wife!ReplyDelete
Really enjoyable. And sharing the cookie, though not fresh, brings their life together full circle. Until the end.
Picture of cookie makes me want one this moment!
I really enjoyed this. I've often wondered if I could keep my wordcount down to 1000. One day soon I'll give it a try. Thanks for the great example.ReplyDelete
Oh, the dream you mentioned the other day! Awesome!ReplyDelete
Unfortunately, all I could see was the picture of the cookie. There appear to be words on the page, but . . . COOOOOOOOOOOOOKIE. ;)
the cookie picture looks a bit on the space craft side itself...ReplyDelete
Nicely crafted and I think you have the human crowd's reactions spot on when faced with immanent destruction...
Well, this is completely plausible to me, when I was pregnant I used to send my hubby out for oreos in the middle of the night. Not quite as big a crisis...lol. I kept waiting for the world not to actually end, which would be worse because everyone would have to face the animals they turned into. Nice one!ReplyDelete
Outrageous and funny. The lengths he went to for love.ReplyDelete
Hi Andrew ~ReplyDelete
Oh yes - this works! I got a chill. You write dialogue so well; it's totally believable.
This is just a quick note to let you know I left you a couple awards at my blog:
from the desk of a writer
I can't tell from your blog whether you get into 'awards' or not, so no pressure at all to 'pass them along, etc.' I just wanted you to know how highly I regard your work here.
All the very best,
Thanks everyone! I wasn't trying to be funny, so it's funny that people thought it was funny. Although I guess the whole premise is funny. :)ReplyDelete
@Corra Thanks for the awards! I'll have to make a post at some point for these :)
A cookie before death? Absolutely.ReplyDelete
Yeah, a riot of a tale, I think you created the atmorpshere nicely with details such as the celebrities all hugging each otherReplyDelete
Ugh - I hope I don't have to see the bleak days you crafted here. Who the hell is making cookies in the middle of that hoopla? Heh, I suppose the same sort of people that would ask for one...ReplyDelete
Good work with dream material!
Funny story. I like to imagine how embarrassing it'd be for everyone if the impact never happened and they'd done terrible things and had to live with it. Getting a cookie is a good last thing to do, in light of this!ReplyDelete
Very cool story. Lots of vivid images in there, and her reasoning for wanting the cookie was touching.ReplyDelete